


I'm chasing more ideas (it doesn't matter here)

by emilia_kaisa



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, Growing Up, Light Angst, Not Beta Read, but very briefly mentioned, more love for Maxim Kovtun, this made me a tiny bit sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 12:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16974747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilia_kaisa/pseuds/emilia_kaisa
Summary: He was the fun one, the one with ridiculous programs, always too excited at press conferences. And it was him, really, but it wasn't the whole picture. Maxim liked being like that, he liked being happy and loud and hilarious. But he also wanted other things, and he didn't want to be remembered just for his jokes and failures. He wanted to be more than that.





	I'm chasing more ideas (it doesn't matter here)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claire_cz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire_cz/gifts).



> Hey hey! So my lovely reader Claire asked me once if I ever thought about writing more character studies and suggested Maxim- and well, here we are!   
> I've done my research, but this is my own take on this character, I hope you understand. And of course, this is the work of fiction (but I'm throwing real shade on Russian Federation in here hah).  
> I hope you enjoy!

 

Moscow was enormous.

Yekaterinburg wasn't a small city by any means, but Moscow was so big Maxim couldn't imagine going out and not getting lost. His parents were sitting in the front, mom holding a map and giving his father directions, and Maxim suddenly felt very small and very, very lonely.

He was still only fifteen, unsure of what he wanted from life, and he didn't know if he was happy with what was going on in his life. Skating was in his genes, imprinted by his father and fueled by the expectations of everyone around him. So Maxim went with that, giving up his dreams about hockey, because at least he was still on the ice.

Maxim liked ice. But the thing was- he liked other things too.

They found the adress, finally, and Nikolai's smile was easy and polite when he welcomed him in the house, patting his shoulder. His mom almost cried when she hugged him goodbye and dad told him to do his best. And then they were gone, and Maxim suddenly felt very lost and awkward.

„Your room is upstairs, first on the right.” Nikolai said „We can talk after you're all settled down.”

Maxim nodded, a bit dumbfounded, gathered all his stuff and walked upstairs with a slight difficulty. He knew that he would be sharing a room with somebody, but his new roommate wasn't there yet; there was a bunch of his stuff though, clothes and books skattered across one bed and aaround it, but the other side of the room was respectably tidy. That was going to end soon, as Maxim wasn't the best at keeping things organised. He dropped his stuff on the floor, shrugged and went downstairs to talk with his new coach.

 

Maxim's roommate was undoubtedly nice and lovely, with smile that was a little bit dimmed and dark, warm eyes. The thing was that Maxim couldn't understand the world he was saying.

Maxim was lying on his bed, debating whether he should start unpacking or not, when the guy walked in, looking pretty exhausted. He stopped abruptly when he saw Maxim, but then grinned and said something in heavy- accented English. It sounded kind of familiar, like a greeting Maxim had heard in some movie, but there was no chance he could repeat that.

„Privet.” he said, sitting up and bringing on his best smile, but inside he was starting to panic a little bit „English no.”

„Oh.” the guy frowned and the sighed deeply „I'm Javier, from Spain.” he said slowly, pronouncing the words carefully „You Maxim?”

„Yes.” Maxim smiled with relief; Javier clearly wasn't fluent, but he still could say more in Russian than Maxim in English, not mentioning Spanish, so he felt a tiny bit better „Nice to meet you, Javier.”

Javier looked a bit confused, as if he didn't understand everything, but his smile was honest.

„Before you-” he said, pointing the bed Maxim was sitting on „- Sergei here.”

„Voronov?” Maxim asked and Javier nodded happily.

„Yes. Good skater, good friend.”

Maxim had met Sergei a few times before, but only now he truly realized that he was also training under Nikolai. He probably wasn't living there anymore due to his still fresh injury, but Maxim guessed they would meet on the training soon enough.

 

Trainings were confusing.

There were so many people around and Maxim was feeling small and so out of place. Judging by Javi's face, he was feeling similar, but he put on an enthusiastic smile for Maxim's sake. It wasn't like the atmosphere was hostile, it was just something entirely new and kind of unexpected. His coach maybe didn't pay him a lot of attention, but he wasn't fully neglecting him either; and if he had some struggles, he could always ask his teammates. Sergei would give him tips on his axel and Javi never failed to make him laugh when he was feeling down. So those few months were good, his skating improving just like his English , and Maxim thought that maybe the ice really was his place.

Then Javi left and Nikolai packed them all into a plane to the States, and everything started going downhill.

 

He left Nikolai's group with a bang, but honestly, he didn't mind. He wanted nothing with that asshole, even if it meant troubles for his career. Maxim knew that he wasn't faultless either, though, lagging behind and having maybe too much fun. But Elena took him in mercifully and he paid her trust back with winning the junior grand prix final. He met Javi there, who was smiling brighter than ever and landing three quads in the free, and Maxim wanted to be just like him.

Europeans were great, an entirely new experience, a rush of adrenaline and feeling that he was able to do anything.

And then Worlds came, and all his carefully built confidence crumbled into pieces in front of the entire world.

He swore to himself that he would be better, he had to be if he wanted to make that Olympic team. And he wanted that, despite all those doubts he still had sometimes, little voices whispering in the back of his head.

Maxim loved the ice, he loved competing, loved the rush of adrenaline after landed jump and pride when the crowd was chanting his name. But it took one missed element, one bad performance to leave him sad and embarassed, without a will to train. It was so hard, sometimes, to just get up and train, the feeling of pointlessness taking over his mind and body.

 

He had hope, when he won the nationals. But then Europeans came, and there was that fifth place again, and Maxim knew he didn't stand a chance.

„I think they might choose you.” he told Sergei before test skates, but his friend only shook his head with a slight, wise smile.

„What? You deserve it, I'd be cheering for you!”

„That's sweet, Max, but I think this-” Sergei gestured around them „- this is just for show. We both know who will go.”

„But there didn't announce-”

„Of course they didn't.” Sergei patted his shoulder „But he told them he wants to go, so they'll let him.”

Sergei was right, of course, and Maxim watched bitterly how the hero of the nation withdrew after the short, a sting of anger in his chest. He would have done better.

He would be better.

 

The next season was good, with medals from Europeans and good grand prix season, ended with a bit disappointing finish at Worlds. And then another year, with a medal earned in Bratislava that made his blood buzz with anticipation.

But Boston changed everything.

The short was bad enough, but his free was simply tragic, and Maxim didn't know how do deal with it all anymore. There was a weight of the world on his shoulders, expectations of his family and fans and coaches, dreams that he could never fulfill.

He thought about leaving it all behind; he passed exams to a sports school in his hometown, feeling that maybe he should do just that, get some education since he couldn't be the skater they all wanted him to be.

But he came back, because leaving something unfinished wasn't really his style. So he changed coaches again, talked to a psycholgist, and for a moment he felt a little bit better. And it was nice to train with Sergei again, because he was that motivation Maxim needed so much these days.

„Why are you keep going?” he asked one day, watching Sergei wrapping his ankle, the one that had already caused him so much pain.

„It's still the best thing I can do.” Sergei shrugged and then smiled sheepishly „And I want to go to the Olympics finally.”

He seemed so motivated and sure, and Maxim was so jealous of that. He was barely over twenty but he already felt too tired and burnt out for someone his age. But he pushed and he tried, and it was the same damn story like in the years before, good Europeans and then crash at the Worlds, harsh and painful, bruising not only his body but also his heart.

People didn't see that, usually. He was the fun one, the one with ridiculous programs, the one too excited at press conferences. And it was him, really, but it wasn't the whole picture. He liked being like that, he liked being happy and loud and hilarious. But he also wanted other things, and he didn't want to be remembered just for his jokes and failures. He wanted to be more than that.

And the next season, the Olympic season yet again- he just wanted to forget everything, but he still watched the competition, but that time he didn't think that he would have done better that Dima and Misha. He would just disappoint more people, disappoint himself.

He didn't want to do that, anymore. He had been trying, so hard, but it all went wrong and now he was in a middle of a career that had started so promising but brought him more heartbreak and disappointment than happiness.

It hurt, to think about it, but Maxim was so good at hiding his feelings now that almost no one noticed, and he was glad. It was easier to seem like a funny, uncaring one; he had learned that from both Javi and Sergei, true champions of smiling through the pain and disappointments, and Maxim was glad that he knew how to do that.

Life had still so much to offer, and there so many other things he loved, opportunities he wanted to take. But Maxim didn't know how to stop now, maybe he never knew. It felt wrong, because he had wasted most of his youth for that, and he couldn't let all that hurt and sacrifice be for nothing.

And maybe, deep inside, he still believed he could do it. Maybe just a little bit, just good Nationals, maybe another Europeans, a tiny something to make it all worth it.

Just a little bit of hope, to keep going.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!  
> Title from London Grammar's 'Wasting my young years'  
> And [here](https://fs-gossips.com/maxim-kovtun-every-day-i-come-to-practice-with-a-smile/) is a really nice short interview with Maxim from 2016.


End file.
